


Training Robin

by Annehiggins



Series: Old Enough [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP pure and simple. Written and posted to a Batslash list in the late 90s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Robin

**Training Robin  
by Anne Higgins**

Dick Grayson flinched as the Batcuffs snapped into place, the fit snug enough to cause mild pain and effectively secure his wrists behind his back. The involuntary protest registered, he took to voluntary methods and glowered darkly as his torso and legs were tied to the stiff-backed chair. The very least the blasted Bat could have done was throw him onto something more comfortable. Like the bed, the floor, a fluffier chair. Dick really wasn't all that fussy. Almost anything would have done besides this stupid chair.

Bruce gave him the patented 'this is for your own good' Bat-stare. "Now, Dick, our enemies are hardly likely to concern themselves with niceties like making certain your wrists aren't bound too tightly."

Oh, God. A lecture. First Bruce had insisted on binding him in the latest model of Batcuffs, then he wanted to launch into standard training lecture number 709. 

"I made some improvements in the design, and I want to make certain you can get out of them."

His glare wattage went up. Okay, so once ... well, maybe three times ... he'd been caught by the bad guys and ended up locked in his own cuffs. Was that any reason to waste a good rainy weekend on training?

Besides, he'd already unlocked the damned things.

Not very difficult given he had not only been trained by the World's Greatest Escape Artist - patent granted years ago - but he also knew how the man's mind worked. Scary thought, but it often proved useful. For instance, there was little the big, bad Bat feared more than Robin's capture. Naturally, high tech cuffs would be designed in an attempt to prevent escape, but given Dick's 'habit' of wearing them himself, it wasn't hard to guess there would be an escape route built into them.

Nimble fingers had found the rough spot in the metal in less than five seconds. It gave when he pressed at it. He guessed it would respond to a number sequence and knew the rhythm of other devices. Which left only the code to figure out. He went for something obvious, important and known only to the two of them – the date they'd made love for the first time.

The hardest part in the whole thing had been keeping the damned things from clicking loudly when they came loose. He almost went for the direct route of shutting Bruce up – untying himself and stalking out of the gym. The look on his guardian's face would be worth some satisfaction, but Dick decided to go for revenge versus mere satisfaction.

He re-fastened the cuffs so they were comfortable, then directed his best 'you're so wise and wonderful' smile at Bruce.

Bruce glared at him, but the lecture stopped.

Ah, he was so handsome when he knew he was being patronized. Dick's smile moved from w & w to 'innocent lamb.'

It earned him a snort. Bruce held up the stop watch.

What a great idea. Dick had always wondered how long it took to get under the Bat's skin. He had to fight a feral grin. It would serve Bruce right -- ambushing him into this when he'd been promised a workout on the trapeze. Undoubtedly an hour of flying was to be his reward for escaping in record time. All part of the Robin Training Manuel -- and if he ever found the damned thing, he was burning it. Of course, in the absence of a good bon fire, ingenuity could provide its own rewards.

"Go," Bruce said, starting the clock.

Dick wiggled, his shoulders rolling as if he were trying to physically break free of the bonds. He'd always thought Superman looked very tasty when he did it, and he found the way it moved the soft material of his t-shirt over his nipples very satisfying. 'How's this for a record, Brucie?' Smooth and uninterested to hard nubs dying for attention within 10 seconds flat.

Bruce frowned, displeasure radiating from him, as he remained a page or twelve behind the updated plans for the day. The man actually seemed to think Dick had forgotten how to think his way through things.

To punish him, Dick squirmed his lower body, murmuring softly as his ass cheeks moved together. Nice and slick, all ready for fun and games.  
As 'Seduce the Guardian' was one of Dick's favorite sports, he'd quickly learned the value of keeping himself ready for anything, and a generous smear of KY in the proper spot was part of his morning routine. Having frequently reaped the benefits of a ward who believed in the Boy Scout motto, he figured not even Bruce could miss the significance of the squirm.

The frown froze, a nostril flared. Bingo! "Dick."

"Hmm?" He squirmed again, his cock beginning to fill as his tights pulled across it.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously."

"Perish the thought," he muttered, arching up as much as the ropes would allow.

"You're suppose to escape."

"Mmm." More wiggling, and a wet, sticky patch of cloth rubbed over the tip of his erection.

"Dick, this is important."

"'course," he groaned, shifting to give more attention to his nipples. 'Come on, Bruce, watch the cloth slide over them. Let it give you ideas.'

Bruce sighed. "Brat."

Dick arched an eyebrow in his definitive 'what's your point?' manner.

The ropes went flying, a push sent Dick tumbling to the practice mat, then Bruce tugged his tights off. Had to hand it to the man -- slow on the uptake, but once he figured something out, he moved like lightning.

A hard jerk ripped Dick's t-shirt apart, then the mouth he'd been teasing, swooped down to fasten on his left nipple. He yelped his approval, pushing upward to deepen the suction. The same attention to his right nipple made him come, spurting up to splatter across Bruce's own t-shirt.

He stayed hard or hardened again the moment a large hand settled on his groin -- he couldn't tell which. Eighteen had its advantages. "Bruce," he moaned pushing against the hand.

Long fingers stroked him, tormenting him as Bruce settled back on an elbow to look down at him. "I shouldn't reward you. It's important -"

"Bruce," he groaned. Blasted man had no sense of priorities. Dick slipped the cuff off his right wrist, waggled the free arm around, then returned the wrist to the metal 'prison.'

"Brat."

"You said that. Move on, please."

Bruce sighed, sounding like the most put upon man in the world, instead of grinning with gratitude at having an eager young lover spread out before him. Of course, that was his Bruce, and Dick didn't care because while he was sighing, his guardian had also stripped off his own t-shirt, then moved Dick's legs to his shoulders.

"One of these days, spanking is going to be part of your training," Bruce muttered, pulling himself free of his tights, then positioning himself.

Dick groaned. He'd buy Bruce a damned paddle for Christmas if it would get him to shut up and. ... Ohhhhhhh, yes.

Hard, thick flesh sank deeply into his body, right where it belonged. "Took long enough," he growled, clenching his ass around Bruce's cock.

Bruce glared at him. "You could at least allow me to pretend I'm in charge when I'm fucking your ass off."

"What would be the fun in that?" Dick demanded, tilting his head upward in silent demand.

Another sigh, then a long, luxurious kiss made Dick's head spin. He sighed happily, then scowled. "I thought you were going to fuck my ass."

Bruce rolled his eyes, then went to it. Long, slow strokes to torment Dick as each movement sent his nerves into fits. Unfair tactics -- Bruce knew he couldn't think when he took him like this -- but what the hell. Paradise was paradise.

His mouth detached from his brain, he began to beg for Bruce to hurry, to make it last forever, anything, anything he wanted. But please, please, please.

A kiss claimed his mouth, the tongue pushing inside him matching the pace of the cock. He wanted to squirm away, the sensation too intense, too wonderful to endure, but the cuffs and Bruce's weight pushing down on him kept him pinned. Helpless, at the mercy of the Bat.

He came with a shout, his entire body quivering with the power of it, then he went limp, certain he would never move again, which was fine because Bruce kept moving. In and out. Slow and deep.

Dick managed to open his eyes and looked into Bruce's. Passion simmered in those pools of vivid blue, but love filled them. His. All his. "I love you, too," he whispered.

Bruce froze, his frame taunt, his cock buried deep. Then he shuddered and collapsed.

Despite the weight of his sated guardian, Dick managed to arch up enough to give himself the room to slip free of the cuffs. His arms went around Bruce, rubbing the broad, sweaty back. He glanced to the right and saw the stop watch, ticking away. Twenty minutes. Not bad, not bad at all.

With an apologetic murmur, Bruce rolled over, pulling Dick with him, so he ended up cradled against Bruce's broad chest. There was a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. "How long did it take you to get those cuffs off?"

With a concentrated effort, he found the energy to murmur, "Eight seconds."

"You really are a spectacular brat."

"Mmm. But I'm all yours."

"Good."

Dick smiled. It had definitely been that. Now, what else could they test today?

End


End file.
